


Don't Get Sentimental

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dick Grayson is injured, Fluff, Gen, Injury, Sick Fic, Tiger gets to take care of him, Tiger is done with Dick, What's new, it's all good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 01:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: After Dick misses a meeting with Tiger he finds Dick back at his apartment in Bludhaven sick and hurt, leaving Tiger to take care of him.





	Don't Get Sentimental

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spread_my_wings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spread_my_wings/gifts).



> For spread_my_wings who requested this on Tumblr.

Dick Grayson was an idiot Tiger told himself half an hour after their meeting was supposed to begin. He had no idea why he’d thought Dick Grayson would be any help to him, let alone think to actually show up for a meeting. He had to re-learn that fact as he shifted from foot to foot on the too bright rooftop in Bludhaven and listened to casino music drift up to his ears. While watching couples, singles, and groups stumble their way across streets and down sidewalks. Half an hour he could have been using to do anything else.

He gave up on waiting and went to find the delinquent himself. He would have picked the lock on Grayson’s door, but one of his windows was open, the curtains blowing out into the night air. That was far easier than cracking the man’s less than excellent security, so he climbed in and found a living room in disarray. Bits of a blue and black uniform were scattered across the floor from the window leading to the couch, gloves, then a top, and boots.

Tiger followed the trail to find Grayson passed out on the couch, his body flopped onto the cushions, feet hanging over the armrest. One of his arms was wrapped around a pillow, the other hung over the edge. His face pressed into the pillow and light snores were slipping out between the fabric and his body.

“I should have known.” Tiger said, standing over him.

Grayson did not move at the words, instead he sniffed and snored again. Tiger sighed and shook him by the shoulder “Wake up you pathetic excuse for a spy, you were to give me important information tonight, not sleep like a child.”

“Mmmnot a _ spy _ .” Grayson mumbled, and swatted half heartedly at Tiger’s hand with the arm that had been hanging over the couch. All he managed in his blind flailing was to brush Tiger’s knee.

“Spy, vigilante, it does not matter if you spend the time you should be working asleep.” Tiger told him.

The man seemed to start at this, the couch became a flurry of man, pillow, and cushion as he sat up. Then, he was on his feet panting, eyes wild before they locked on Tiger.

“I’m sorry, is it that time? I didn’t mean to—” Grayson said, hand running through his hair, only mussing it up worse than it already was, “I meant to be there.” He said, his hand paused at the side of his head, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Only--I think, my head hurts?”

He managed to look at Tiger for a full five seconds before his eyes crossed, and he slumped forward. Instinct had Tiger catch him and settle him back on the couch. As he did so, he caught sight of hair matted with blood that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Idiot.” Tiger said, and knelt before him, fingers turning Grayson’s head so he could get a better look at the injury.

“What are you talking about?” Grayson asked, his words slow and heavy, but curious.

“You. Only an idiot would come back and fall asleep with an injury like this, you are concussed, and lucky it was nothing worse.” Tiger said, standing. “You were also snoring.”

Grayson gave him a sheepish smile, slumping into the couch, “I do that when my allergies act up. It’s that time of the year.”

“I do not believe you.” Tiger looked around the apartment, from the living area to the open kitchen and the hall with two doors, “Where do you keep your medical equipment?”

“Bathroom, but I’m fine. It’s just a bump.” Grayson said, then snapped his mouth shut at the scalding look Tiger gave him.

“Do not move, Grayson, or I will make you wish you were still fighting the man that gave you that concussion.” He said. 

He left Grayson on the couch and moved to the hallway, the call of the one on the left’ following after him him.

“Stay conscious!” he yelled back before opening the door to the bathroom.

It at least was not as messy as the other room. Tiger located a first aid kit and thermometer with ease along with some pain medication and left the room as he found it to return to Grayson. The man had pulled a pillow up to his chest and was blinking slowly. When he saw Tiger he smiled, wide and too big for the situation.

“Here, we will see if it is allergies or something worse.” Tiger said, shoving the thermometer in Grayson’s direction.

Grayson took it, and Tiger left him to checking his temperature while he opened up the kit. It was well stocked, that at least he could be grateful for. Tiger left the man again to move into the kitchen and collect a clean rag and water both for drinking and cleaning. The kitchen was empty in comparison to the other rooms. The refrigerator bare of little beyond essentials, bottled water, and a few cups of yogurt. 

“No fever.” Grayson’s voice was triumphant when Tiger returned, as he handed over the thermometer, “I told you it was just allergies.”

Tiger hummed at him and set the tool aside, “One stroke of luck does not relieve you from the rest of this mess.”

“Aww, Tony, I didn’t know you cared.” Grayson said.

Tiger ignored the words in favor of wetting the rag and wringing it out. “There is a bottle and medicine, take it while I do something about your injury. What did you do, charge a bear?” he asked, moving to dab at the matted blood and hair concealing what he hoped was a bad bump and torn skin.

He was fairly certain it was no worse than that, otherwise Grayson would have been more difficult to rouse and far less coherent than he was. Time seemed to be helping his speech, and while his eyes were drifting slightly, his attention was mostly focused on Tiger. Perhaps he could squeeze the information he needed out of Grayson and still have time to make it back tonight. Then again, he wasn’t comfortable with the thought of leaving the man to fend for himself.

Grayson told him the story of a robbery he had stopped and how he’d been tossed into a case, against a wall, and sideswiped by a vehicle. It sounded like he should be worse off than dealing with a head injury and the sniffles, but Tiger was not going to complain.

“You can do nothing simply, can you?” he asked during one of Grayson’s pauses.

For that question he received a blinding smile far more believable than any Grayson had showed that night. He grunted a response and moved back to cleaning the wound. His bowl of water was mostly pink at this point, but he’d cleared away the dried blood and found the scratched skin of Grayson’s scalp beneath his hair.

“This is not as bad as it could have been.” He said, dabbing antiseptic on a clean wipe.

“I know, I’m mostly achy from it all.” Grayson said, “Still, thanks for coming by.”

Tiger ignored him, and finished working on the wound before carefully wrapping it with gauze, “Have you contacted one of your family members yet?” he asked, instead.

“Why would I do that?” Dick asked, “I’ve got you here.”

“I cannot stay and keep an eye on you.” Tiger said, “I was not supposed to be here this long. We were exchanging information, Grayson, not planning a slumber party.”

“You would be surprised how often that ends up being what happens.” Grayson said.

Tiger threw a bit of unused gauze at him, “Do not be an idiot.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, “I can message your butler, will he be able to find a suitable babysitter for you?”

“Don’t bother Alfie with this, I’ll be fine.” Dick said, sitting up, “Really, you’ve got me patched up and the meds are already helping.” He pushed himself to his feet and swayed, “I can get you your stuff and—” he had to throw a hand out for the back of the couch to balance himself.

Tiger reached out, grabbed Grayson’s shoulder and shoved him down. The man fell back onto the couch like straw bending under a foot, “Sit down, before I knock you out. I will stay until your family gets here so there is no need for anyone to rush.” He added, seeing the argument on Grayson’s face.

The man sighed, “I’m not getting you to leave am I?”

“Not until I am sufficiently convinced you are fine. A fact of which you are doing nothing to prove to me currently.”

Grayson was smiling at him now, and Tiger had a feeling something sentimental was about to come out of his mouth. This he needed to stop as much as he needed to keep Grayson from getting himself killed.

“Do not think I am doing any of this because I care. I cannot have you dying before your usefulness has worn out.” He said, and then moved away to call Alfred partially so Grayson could not argue, but also to make someone else aware of the man’s condition and have more suitable help on it’s way.

The call was quick and resulted in the promise of Alfred himself making the journey with Damian, who was already home for the night. Tiger thanked him and returned his attention to Grayson.

“Your youngest brother and Alfred will be here in an hour or so. They are packing a bag for the boy and ensuring coverage for patrol while they are gone.”

“Damian?” Grayson asked, face brightening, “He’ll be happy to stay over a few days.”

“He will surely tell you how foolish you’ve been as well.” Tiger told him, “At least he has that much sense.”

Grayson grinned, “I thought you two would get along.”

Tiger pulled a blanket from the floor and tossed it at Grayson, “When did you eat last?”

Grayson shrugged, pulling the blanket around his shoulders, “Sometime before patrol.”

He nodded, “If I am to be here for a while we might as well eat. If your first aid kit was stocked like your kitchen I would have wrapped your head with a sock. I assume you have delivery options?”  

Grayson didn’t even look affronted at his insult, he only shrugged, “I haven’t been to the store recently. The menus should be on the counter.”

Tiger watched him for a few more seconds before deciding it was safe to leave him to his own devices while he found the menus and dug through them. There were too many for pizza places, one for Chinese that was stained with a red sauce, and tucked at the bottom of the stack was one for what was labeled Mediterranean and had gyros on the front. He dug it out, made sure they delivered late, and dialed the number.

Tiger ordered without asking Grayson what he wanted. They’d spent enough time in the field he knew the man’s preferences, and then moved back to take a seat on the couch beside him. Grayson had let his head fall back against the couch, the blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders. His breathing was off, shallow and whistling on each inhale and exhale.

“Are you certain allergies are your only affliction beyond your head?” Tiger asked.

“Are you certain you don’t like me?” Grayson responded, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Tiger would have taken it as him being fine, but Grayson hadn’t bothered to look at him, his head still leaned back against the cushions, eyes closed. 

“Yes.” Tiger said, hoping to provoke a response. 

Grayson didn’t move, so he elbowed him, “Open your eyes, Grayson. I do not want you passing out again until your family gets here. Once they have arrived you may do as you wish.”

Grayson let one eye slip open, “You ordered food?” 

“Gyros.” Tiger answered. 

Grayson grimaced, “I don’t know if I’m up for much of anything.” he paused, eyes squeezing shut again, Tiger watched as his grip on the blanket tightened, his knuckles whitening. “You might have been right about me not feeling good. Mind grabbing me a bucket or trash can or something? I think I’m going to be sick.” 

Tiger was up in a second, eyes searching for a bin. He remembered seeing one in the kitchen and went for that. When he returned, he shoved the bin close to Grayson and stood over him. The man had curled forward, in on himself. He was cradling his head in his hands, the blanket pooled at his waist where he’d let it drop. 

Tiger moved before he thought, kneeling beside him, a hand going to his back, and a question on his lips, “Can I do anything to help?” 

“Mmm dizzy.” Grayson mumbled, “And I keep thinking something bad’s gonna happen.” He curled closer in on himself, “I feel sick.” he moaned. 

“I brought the bin from the kitchen.” Tiger said, feeling a bit helpless. 

He had never known Grayson to react in such a way. Normally he made it difficult to know when something was wrong. So much so that once he had collapsed behind Tiger on a mission. He’d had to drag him back to a hotel and have Matron call in someone else to finish their job while he made sure his partner did not die. 

Then he had known what to do. Treat the injury, prevent infection, make sure the idiot did not do anything to further worsen it. Now, he was unsure how to proceed. He was fairly certain this was due to more than Grayson’s head injury, but without knowledge of everything he had been exposed to recently he could not make a solid decision as to what was wrong. 

A hand grabbed his, pulling him closer, Tiger leaned forward to see Grayson’s worried eyes, wide and watery, “Epipen.” he said, his voice hoarse, like he couldn’t get the words out, “Allergic,” he wheezed, “reaction.” 

Tiger pulled away immediately and turned for the first aid kit. He’d seen a pen tucked inside and hadn’t thought much about it. Not when Grayson had no serious allergies to worry about. However, the man often worked in Gotham where the dangers were not limited to the pollen in the air, but to enemies like Poison Ivy and the Scarecrow. If Grayson recognized some kind of reaction he needed to act now. 

He fumbled through the kit, finally just dumping it out onto the table in order to find the pen. He scooped it up from under a pack of wipes and pulled the cap off. He turned to Grayson, who’d curled back on himself, arms wrapped around his middle. 

“Can you use this?” Tiger asked. 

When his partner didn’t respond, he pulled the blanket away from Grayson’s body, giving him access to his thigh and shoved the needled end down. He held it firmly in place and he counted out ten seconds. Then dropped the pen back onto the table and massaged the spot where he’d injected the medicine. 

“Tell me what is going on, Grayson.” he said, “I need to know if I should call someone else.”

“Don’t call.” Grayson rasped, “I’ll be okay. Alfie’s coming.” 

Tiger nodded, “If you get any worse I will be calling an ambulance. You are not dying from some unknown allergen on my watch.” 

“It's not unknown.” Dick said, finally sitting up straight, his voice was still too quiet, the words a whisper, “I tried a new Thai place for lunch. It was probably that. Or maybe something leftover from Ivy’s attack last night.” 

“As I said, I will not let you die from an  _ unknown _ substance.” 

Grayson smiled at him, “You never worried this much when we were partners. It’s nice.” 

“Matron would have simply replaced you then.” Tiger replied. “Now I do not have a replacement vigilante.”   
He leaned over and scooped up the blanket he’d tossed aside, “Here.” 

Grayson’s smile widened at the gesture, “Thanks, Tony.” 

Tiger huffed, “You will tell me if you worsen again, correct?” 

Grayson nodded, “Course. You already told me I can’t die until Alfred gets here.” 

“Indeed.” Tiger said, then sighed. 

He let himself fall back against the couch and eyed his friend, “What would you have done if I had not shown up tonight?”   
The question came to him now that he was not moving. He was still too high strung to take his eyes off the man beside him, but his mind was processing more than the emergency at hand. It’s answer was just as clear, Dick Grayson would not be smiling at him, or anyone. Tiger had no way of knowing exactly how the night would have gone had he not shown up, but he did not believe the outcome would have been positive. 

He did not like the sick feeling that gave him. He was not a fan of many of the feelings taking root in him. He did not like the worry, and rightful anger at Grayson for being so stupid. For not calling someone when he had a serious injury. And the familiarity of it, the comfortable memory of falling into old habits, even if these were not the habits he wished to revisit. 

“You did show up. And that’s what matters.” Grayson answered. 

“That is not the point.” Tiger said, but a knock at the door stopped him from continuing. 

It must be the food he had ordered, here already. Or had they been sitting there longer than he’d thought? He stood and glared down at the man on the couch.

“Do not die while I take care of this, or so help me, Grayson, I will bring you back to life and kill you myself.” 

Grayson grinned at him, leaving Tiger’s only response that of stalking to the door to fling it open. He had to smooth his features into something less than irritation at seeing the color drain from the face of the boy at the door. He could not be more than seventeen or eighteen and Tiger was afraid he’d almost sent him running. 

“Good evening.” he said, “How much do I owe you?” 

He counted out the money for the man, opting for an extra large tip and closed the door gently after him. A quick glance at the couch told him Grayson had not died during the exchange. He held the bag up and the man shook his head, swallowing back a wince. 

Tiger carried the food to the refrigerator, his own appetite lost in the last emergency and shoved the bag onto a mostly empty shelf, pushing back a single cup of yogurt with the box. He grabbed two bottles of water off the next shelf and let the door close behind him. 

When he returned to the living room he winced at the mess on the coffee table, but didn’t have the energy to properly clean up the spilled contents of the first aid kit. He shoved them back into the box and set it aside promising himself he’d reorganize it later, when he wasn’t half worried Grayson was about to keel over. He dropped both bottles onto the table and flopped back onto the couch. 

“You still alive?” he asked. 

“And feeling a bit better.” Grayson answered. 

“Good.” Tiger told him, “Do not get sentimental on me, and do not interrupt or I will never speak on this again.” he said, and eyed Grayson for a response. He smiled, but said nothing and Tiger took it as an agreement.

“I am happy you are feeling better. We made good partners, and I would not mind it happening in the future.” He held up a hand at the widening of the man’s smile, “But, that does not mean I will tolerate things like this happening again. If I cannot count on you to take proper care of yourself I cannot count on you at all. I do not want to stumble into something like this again, do we have an understanding?”

“Yes boss.” Grayson said, giving him a mock salute. “I’ll try my best.”

Tiger tutted at him, “As you are so fond of reminding me, I am not your boss.” 

He settled back against the cushions again, “It should not be that much longer before your family arrives, would you like to watch something? Or perhaps rattle on about an inane adventure you’ve had recently?”

Grayson hummed and flopped over to lean against him, “I think I wouldn’t mind just sitting for a while.” he said, tugging the blanket closer to his chest before adding, “I’ll try not to fall asleep, but if you want to talk I wouldn’t mind listening to what you’ve been up to.” 

Tiger rolled his eyes, but decided to humor the man. He intended to give him an overview of things since they had last seen each other, but found Grayson’s gentle probing response questions enough to pull more detail out of him. He spoke until the door opened and Grayson’s family entered.


End file.
